Shelter
by Ephebia
Summary: A visitor is coming to the Q-Branch, a man made of ice but not unbreakable. Q finds a way to interest him. But why would Mycroft Holmes open himself to anyone ? They will try to find calm in each other. But peace is not easy to own.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first attempt at writing in English. I hope you will like it.

Disclaimer : I don't own the Sherlock and Bond's universes.

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This job is as good as expected. I just need someone to speak with a bit more entertaining than the other technicians in here. I'm only thirty-three years old and here I am, at the head of the Q branch. It was hard and now I can finally start to see how this occupation is changing me. Loneliness starts to hurt even for someone like me who don't usually mind about it. No attachment, no friendship seems possible in this place. We are just here to work and never talk about what we're going through. It's always a silent approbation, whatever you do, you do it and it has to prove its usefulness. I'm learning to never congratulate anyone for what good they can do. You do it, and that's is. It is hard for me. College was competitive but I had friends. Here, everything and everyone is cold, the result is the only that warmth your heart. The thing that keeps me alive is the lack of routine. Every day is different and goes with new pressure, new excitement. Today was, once again, one of them.

Everything started with a phone call from Moneypenny, telling me that today someone important was coming to visit the Q branch with M. She asked me to tell everyone to be ready and extremely performant during this moment. She added that we may have to answer questions from this guest and that the Q branch's notoriety was depending on this visit. I understood that if any of us failed, my career would be not as great as I intended it to be. Quickly after the call ended, I reunited all the minions under my order and repeated Moneypenny's words. They all nodded and went back to their work as if it wasn't that much of a big deal. They were working here since longer than me so them might be used to this kind of visit but for me it was new and a source of anxiety.

I tried to go back on my own work and didn't stop for the whole day. I forgot to eat lunch like every other day. At one point, it came to my mind that I didn't ask for the visitor's name and I remembered that here, names mean nothing. Here I'm just Q and it may be better like this.

By 3pm I perceived a change of atmosphere in our laboratory. We still had hours of work in front of us but no visitors would come after 6pm so we knew that they were coming in the next three hours. I made myself another cup of tea, I had so many today that I was not even able to count them anymore. I received a mail from Moneypenny, really short just saying "On our way." I took a deep breath and cleaned my glasses. I gathered my workmates once again and I just nodded. They understood. We were ready, I could sense that everyone wanted it to finish quickly, the pressure was a little too high to keep us sane any longer. I went back to my desk when the door opened.

Moneypenny was leading the group, opening doors, nodding and taking notes when necessary. M was following, in a deep conversation with a man I've never seen before. I observed that the pressure in room augmented when they entered the lab. Moneypenny mouthed me to come where the group was. I approached, a bit intimated by the man that I supposed was our important visitor. He was not slim, that for sure, when you compare it with me that still don't get the concept of food. His three-piece suit was perfectly clean, I was pretty sure I could never afford something like this. He was slowly starting to go bald, he seemed a little older than M. His face was the most unexpected face I've ever seen. A lack of expression. It was just coldness. I had seen a lot of agents putting a mask similar to this to stay sane while being on mission but this was beyond everything else. It wasn't just a lack of expression but a total absence of feeling. I could feel only brain and not heart coming from this man. It put doubt on my own way to work. I always tried to let my emotions out of this place but this man was totally winning the contest, if contest there was.

M looked at me while speaking and I saw in his eyes a reassuring gaze. Everything will be alright he was silently telling me. I wanted to believe him. He turned back to his interlocutor.

"Let me introduce you to our new Quartermaster, Q. Young but extremely brilliant."

The man smiled at me but it was nothing more than manners. His eyes were unfocused, somewhere I couldn't see but that was all around. He was seeing things that I couldn't imagine, just by looking quickly at me. I saw that by a very little glance, he knew everything about me, and I didn't quite understand how.

"Mycroft Holmes, nice to meet you."

He didn't give the impression to be that much enchanted to meet me whatever words he would use. He stopped to look at me and went back in his discussion with M. Moneypenny was still not sure about what to do about their presence here. I glanced at her with interrogation. She raised her eyebrows, not able to answer my silent question. I didn't know if I was supposed to go back to work or to wait next to them, expecting a question from Mister Holmes at any moment. I went back to my desk but instead of sitting down and continue the coding I stopped before they came in, I just grabbed my mug still full of tea and went back to the group. I could feel the eyes of the minions trying to understand what was happening. I drank a sip of my now cold tea. M turned back to be and just whispered "what's wrong with you ?"

Mister Holmes said, without looking at us "It's fine, either he drinks it now or it will be too cold to be useful. No waste is good sometime."

M went back to him and I could see confusion on his face.

"What do you mean sometime ?" he asked, not sure if question was a good option.

"Well, drinking this tea is less expensive than that mess your agents did in Serbia," the man declared, indifferent, looking at the other side of the room, where all the minions were working.

M stayed silent, understanding that he was not in a good position at this point of the conversation. I didn't hear about this blunder but I assumed it was not the good moment for me to ask about it. I took another sip of my tea and Moneypenny on my right side moved her elbow in my ribs to force me to stop. I almost spit my tea. I saw a grin on Mister Holmes's face. Did he come here to mess up with everyone ?

Moneypenny's phone started ringing. She answered it and after a few seconds she went closer to M to whisper something to him. He gritted his teeth and his serious eyes indicated that it was a really important matter.

"Excuse us, a urgent case awaits us," he apologised.

Moneypenny and M left the lab in the following seconds. I was the one who was supposed to deal with this man now. I sighed inside of me and tried to find motivation.

"Your cats don't like their food, you know. You should try something else, the vegetables in it are not their taste, it seems so." He claimed while looking at my jumper.

I didn't how he found out that my cats were not keen with their croquettes but I conceded that my jumper was their favourite place to sleep. It was easy to understand that I have cats when you see how much hair my clothes contain.

"One of them seems to be ok with it, if you could see how fat it is. Maybe it eats somewhere else, stupid pet."

But Mister Holmes was not listening anymore. He approached my desk, staring at all the stuff on it. It was clearly a mess but it allowed my mind to go free more easily.

"Are you happy working here ?" He asked without stopping glancing at my computer.

I was surprised. He wasn't looking like someone who cared about my thoughts about this job. Maybe he was a health and safety inspector or something, but that didn't sound right when I looked at this man.

"Yes, but there is not a lot of people to speak with," I answered, "Not that there is no one in here, but conversations are quite limited, you see."

"I perfectly understand. Do you consider yourself more intelligent than your minions in there ?"

I could hear a arrogant accentuation while saying intelligent. Was he considering himself more intelligent than everyone ? To his attitude its was clear for me.

"Of course not, I'm just a nerd trying to make my bit of knowledge in coding useful."

"But you understand better and quicker than the common mass."

He sat on my chair and played with one of my pens. He was enjoying being as clever as few could reach. He was bored but seeing himself untouchable was making him confident and playful. I took my computer and sat on the floor next to him. I drank one more sip of tea and opened my research program. I didn't know who this man was but my only friend, my computer and its multitude of software will help me to go through the secret he was trying to be. This machine was one of the most sophisticated computers on earth, everything was reachable. Holmes was glancing at my screen. I got very few result. Stuffs related to his brother, Sherlock Holmes, things about the cabinet office, membership from the Diogenes Club. Something felt wrong. He has stopped to look at my computer, with a subtle smile. He knew that I wouldn't find much. Well, I was ready for a second round. I opened a coding page and started typing. I knew the code by heart. It was not a complicated one. The access to secret files was easy when you were already inside the MI6. Around ten seconds later a bunch of files opened. I started to smile and Holmes was not smiling anymore. I could sense his eyes reevaluating me. I was becoming interesting for him. I drank another sip of my tea, that was disgustingly cold. I closed all the files without reading them. It was not my job to learn about the apparently secret life of Mycroft Holmes. If those files were hidden, there was a reason and it was none of my concern. I just needed to know that there was something important enough to make this man a true pressure on M.

"You're more intelligent than I thought. More than that, you're wise. That's something important in this world. To take the right decisions. I'm not able to apply that all the time to my life, I hope you will, at least here."

I assumed that advice were rare coming from this man. I supposed he would usually give warning more than advice. I nodded and closed my computer. Holmes gave the impression to have fun. I thought that it wasn't every day that someone was able to read every file containing his name, even more that this person chooses to do not read them. He stood up, stretching a little his legs. Was my chair that much uncomfortable ?

"Well, it was nice to meet you, as I already said. Good luck with all of this."

He left the lab with no other word. I didn't find any answer to what he said but he was not expecting any response.

I threw away my tea, too cold to be drinkable. I went back to work. I wanted to finish the paperwork of the last collaborative mission between the Q branch and the 00 agents. I was expected, with the feedback from the agents, to explain how the tools used in missions could be improved. Boring work. A minion came to see me at some point to ask about the reason for the earlier visit. I still had no idea and shrugged for only answer.

At 10pm I finally got out of the lab. All the technicians had already left since at least one hour but I still needed to finish this stupid report. I put my computer in my bag, as usual, and took my coat. Time to go home. I went directly to the underground station. I could easily afford to take a cab everyday but I felt uncomfortable at the idea to be alone with a stranger for half an hour in such a small space. The subway was allowing more escape. Everyone was in his own bubble, and for nothing in the world they would break it.

The station was still crowded. The thought of standing up all the way home made me sigh loudly while waiting on the platform. I felt a vibration in the breast pocket of my coat. My personal phone. Almost no one was contacting me one this phone, just my parents and some rare friends. But none of them would send me a text at this hour. I opened my coat to grab my phone.

"Lunch tomorrow at Brunswick's. MH"

For god's sake. MH was obviously the new acquaintance I made this afternoon. But for which holy reason did he want to eat with me ? Anything but food was alright. He was not the kind of person you ask to change plan just because your eating disorders are not the friendliest things to live with. The message was not expecting an answer. I put my phone back in my pocket and got on the subway that had just arrived. I spent the journey to my station thinking about what happened today.

And now here I am in my dark little flat. I could afford something bigger but for which use ? Billy and Caramel were impatiently waiting in the kitchen for their croquettes. Did they really despite the one I give them ? They seemed pretty happy with it when you see at what speed they eat this stuff. Seeing them eating reminded me that I haven't eaten for more than twelve hours. Not that I'm keen on food but basic needs are still needs. I opened my cupboard and took the first bag of food coming. Popcorn. When did I buy popcorn ? Whatever. I slowly ate what my body sounded to accept but after three bites of this over sweet thing, I started to feel nauseous. I needed to eat. Come on for god's sake. I filled a glass of water and drank it, deeply breathing between every swallow. I put the bag back in the cupboard and searched for something that my body would be less reluctant to eat. I opened my fridge. This yogurt appeared to be the best option. I didn't feel anything from my stomach telling me otherwise. I took the yogurt and ate it very slowly. Caramel was looking at me. How can it be so fat ? Did it eat without knowing when to stop ? I started to envy that cat, its life looked so much easier than mine. I finished my yogurt and threw the packaging away. The taste of it in my mouth felt uneasy. I brushed my teeth quickly, I didn't want this taste to stay five more seconds.

After that I finally went to bed, too exhausted to even put pyjamas on. Who cares anyway ?

I woke up with a terrible sentiment of emptiness going through my whole body. I didn't sleep well. Not at all if I considered this horrible sensation in mouth. I had thrown up. I started to remember it. The very few food I ate last evening didn't stay that longer in my body. I had continued to throw up even with nothing else in my stomach. This moment has drained all my physical and mental energy out of me.

I tried to sit down on my bed slowly but the room started to spin. Would this mess ever stop ? I closed my eyes and grabbed my glasses. I stood up and, keeping my glasses in hands, I went into the bathroom. My balance was good enough to allow me to move with my eyes closed without feeling worst. I put my clothes off and went into the shower. I opened the water and sat down on the cold tiles. My body couldn't endure five more minutes standing up. This day was starting badly as usual. I've seen worst, I've seen better. I thought, as every other day, about what another student told me one day in college.

"You will not live long like this. I've already seen someone like you. We found out too late and now she is dead." His sister has died from something similar to me. The day we graduated he handed me a paper with addresses and advice for replacing medications. I still haven't found the good moment to think properly about it and I believe the paper is at my parent's house.

After ten more minutes under the hot, almost burning, water, I felt a bit stronger to stand up and try to eat again. I made my way back in my room to put clothes on and I remembered that I was supposed to have lunch with Mycroft Holmes on this day. I grabbed what I supposed to be a less ridicule jumper than usual, with less cat hairs on it. It was just plain black with a turtle neck. It was, as most of my clothes, too big for me but I felt more comfortable hidden in it than with fitted clothes. I was too slim to reasonably wear this kind of things.

Dressing up was painful, my body still hatched from this restless night. I finally went in the kitchen. My dear cats had finished eating all their croquettes. I grabbed a box of cereal on the counter and ate. Cereal was flavorless to me. It was the only thing, with tea, that my body always accepted. I liked tea, cereal was just neutral. I replaced my cat water, their bowl was almost empty. I thought about the journey in the underground that was waiting for me. Cereal suddenly started to taste really bad. I put the box back at its place, my stomach still half-empty and took my stuff to go to work.

I found a seat in the subway. I was still a bit dizzy but sitting down was already having good effect on me.

I arrived at the lab forty-five minutes later. I thought I was coming in later than usual but I was only the second person to be inside our laboratory. I made myself the first tea of the day, with the strongest tea we had in stock. I felt revigorated after drinking the burning beverage. I opened my computer to check the location of the meeting at lunch. It was almost next to our building. I supposed that Mister Holmes didn't want me to miss work as much as possible. How nice.

The morning passed slowly. Some daily reports from agents in mission was missing as usual. I called them, asking them to do it as quick as possible. Not the most exciting part of this job. I phoned 007 who was starting his mission this afternoon and that I was going to supervise with M. 007 was not an easy person but worth talking with. I could guess that for him too, discussing and arguing together was a way to shake up this job a little bit. Today mission was not easy, as most of the one given to 007 but was definitely not the hardest he ever had. We recapitulated the bullet points of the mission established with M. We both needed to remember clearly what were the goals of this mission to be able to focus only on them.

After my third cup of tea I saw everyone starting to relax and leaving to have their lunch. I supposed it was time for me to go to this meeting with Holmes.

The walk to the restaurant wasn't that long and I arrived about seven minutes later. Holmes has already ordered a glass of wine for himself. I entered the restaurant and went in his direction. I sat in front of him and he welcomed me with a nod. A waitress came to our table.

"Would you like anything to drink ? Offered by the house, of course."

I hesitated. Was I supposed to drink alcohol ? I couldn't do that. The thought of an alcoholised beverage touching my tongue created a wave of disgust in my whole body.

"Tea. Green tea please."

I saw Holmes raising an eyebrow. Anyone with a bit of common sense would have used this free order for something fancier that hot coloured water. His eyes went back to the menu in front of him. I was scared to look at one for me. I finally started to read the different meals, slowly, trying to keep it as abstract as possible to avoid reactions from my stomach. I needed something simple. I felt attracted by the side meal section. I knew ordering just a plate of potatoes would look unacceptable but it was the only thing that I was feeling ok with.

Holmes ordered a plate of meat with mixed vegetables. I order mine in a whisper. The waitress made a surprised face but didn't comment. Holmes was smiling, a small peaceful smile. Was he happy about the thought of eating ? It was something that I couldn't understand.

The waitress came back with my cup of tea. I drank a sip. It was boiling but good. It felt warm in my body and for once a bit better than usual.

"Do you like the cinema from the thirties ?" asked Holmes, looking straight at me with a serious gaze.

"I don't watch that much movies." I answered in a breath. To say it fairly, apart from documentaries I haven't seen so many movies in my life.

"So what do you like ? Books ? No, comics or stuff like that, right ? You're more on the nerd side."

"Painting."

Holmes was not expecting this answer. He raised an eyebrow and leaned against the back of his chair. I could sense his eyes going everywhere on me. He was, once again, reevaluating me. I didn't know what was his point in trying to understand me but whatever please him. I just didn't want to be too easy to read, that would be a terrible weakness from me. He attacked again with questions about college. I was sure he already knew all the answers, everything was written in my MI6 file. College was not the happiest moment of my life, to speak truly. Silence came back at some point and I felt it was my turn to ask questions. I had so many but nothing that seemed clever to ask now.

"My cats ate all their food yesterday evening. They were waiting impatiently, you know." I couldn't find any other reasonable subject. "And when I woke up this morning, they had finished their bowl. It doesn't suggest that they don't like it."

"Well, even if they like it, it's not what it's good for them. Their hairs are seriously damaged. Just try something without less vegetables."

The waitress arrived with our orders. The view of the food made me feel instantly nauseous. I reprimanded as I could this horrible impression. I had to eat, to go through this lunch. I could throw up as I wanted once outside of this place but for now, I had to accept those potatoes in my stomach. I could see a smile on Holmes's face. He was someone who enjoyed food. He quickly started to eat. I took my fork and put a potato in my mouth. My fingers were slightly shaking. I needed to think about something else. Distraction for my brain.

"Explaining me what you like in painting." Holmes asked while cutting his meat.

Yes, speaking. I was going to speak until forgetting that I had food in my plate. It was the only solution.

"It's something that ask for emotions, you see. It doesn't matter the emotion you discern while looking at a painting, the importance is to feel it. It helps me to understand what is happening to my mind. Like a therapist but quite less expensive."

Holmes was nodding from time to time. He was continuing to eat but it was something that I was erasing from my mind. I focused on his eyes, looking at me with a sort of kindness that could have been misunderstood as pity.

"I don't paint. I like looking at them, even the ones considered as meaningless. The only thing I can do is what I call paint-coding. I code, pixel by pixel an image until recreating it. You know, some people are really good with photoshop or whatever software to create things. But it's not precise enough for me. Coding is the most precise thing that exist. It's the hidden side of everything that exist on a computer. If you master it, you can create everything, art, software, war weapons. But you need to put limit on yourself, as in everything else."

"How long does it take you to create a "painting" by coding ?" said Holmes. He seemed genuinely interested.

"From two to five hours, depending on the size. But if you search something with real brush stroke, that's not the good thing. It's digital, even if I can recreate every brush movement from the original painting, it's only 2D. It has no consistency."

"Do you often recreate already existing painting ? That's replica you know. Laws are not really good with that."

"Why would I do that ? There are enough imitators outside, I have no interest in this kind of work. I want to put my own feeling in my art, not copying without fully understanding the emotions of someone else."

I paused for some seconds, recomposing my thoughts. Holmes has eaten most of his plate. I ate a second potato swallowing slowly.

"What do you like in vintage movies ?" I asked Holmes. It was his turn to answer. Conversations are supposed to be coming from both sides.

"It was the beginning of cinema. There was something new in it. The way the actors played didn't really mattered. It was just the excitement created by the endless possibilities of this new media. Now everyone try to play a character, even I, even you, and that's not always working. People think they're being interesting and unique when it has been already done more than thousand times."

I could sense in his gaze some shadows. His own character was tiring and understanding the other people's ones at the first sight may make him bored. Everything was too easy for him. I nodded quietly.

I couldn't touch anything more of my plate and watched Holmes finish his own silently. The waitress came back and took our plates away. Holmes indicated her that we wouldn't take desserts. I suddenly remembered that my mission with 007 was waiting for me in the lab but I assumed I was not in hurry. Holmes leaned forward and said in a very calm voice.

"I can't explain how, and it bothers me, but I have the feeling that you are different from other people. I usually only feel pity for most human beings but now I have some interest for you."

He looked at me straight into my eyes and I could perceive trustfulness carefully shown as little as possible in his expression. He was unsure about what was going on, he wanted me to care as much as he did.

"You remind me of someone," Holmes whispered, "but you're still completely different from him."

I didn't know what to answer. I looked away from him. The waitress gave the bill to Holmes. While he paid, I could sense his expression completely changing. He was putting back his mask of coldness as when I saw him for the first time yesterday. I dared a glance at my watch. Now I was late for Bond's mission.

"It was nice to have lunch with you, Mister Holmes. I need to go, work is waiting for me."

I stood up, putting on my coat. Holmes slightly tilted his head on the right and smiled.

"Goodbye, Q. We will see each other soon."

I said goodbye and left quickly to go back to MI6. My professional phone started to ring. Moneypenny. I answered and almost yelled in the phone while running : "I know ! I'm late ! I had lunch for once in my life for god's sake !" and I hanged up.

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Review this first chapter if you want ! Anything will be constructive !


	2. Chapter 2

This chapter is shorter than the first one but I'm not going to write more words just for the sake of numbers.

I think I will write the next one from Mycroft's point of view. I need change.

Disclaimer : I don't own the Sherlock and Bond's universes.

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The week continued as slowly and full of pressure as every other week that I have been living in the Q Branch. Cereal was becoming my main diet and, as I didn't try anything else, I haven't thrown up since that night. I couldn't consider it as a true amelioration but it made my life easier to have a source of energy that I wasn't rejecting. The next day after the lunch with Mister Holmes I bought meat only food for Billy and Caramel. I didn't know if it would truly change anything but I had nothing to lose by trying.

I had a day off on Sunday and went to the Tate Modern. I have some difficulties with modern art and I thought that looking at some Picasso's paintings would help me to have a better bond with it. Or at least, to like Picasso more than I already did.

Spring was finally showing and the sunny weather pushed every family of London to go out, visit museums, rest or play in parks. The underground was full of parents with their children. I suddenly felt out of place. I hoped that the Tate would be less crowded, I needed concentration and calm and screaming kids were not what I could call the perfect atmosphere to relax. Not that I didn't like children, I just didn't know how act around them, I was always extremely nervous when a child started to speak to me.

The room where the Picasso's were was reasonably filled. I supposed that people wanted to stay outside as long as the sun was up there.

The different paintings were gathering various emotions into me. I would not describe any of them as happiness, joy, or peace. I was feeling anger, sadness, anxiety. It was terribly relaxing to see what I could sense in my life in paintings. I was not alone. My emotions were shared by the pieces of art. I thought about what made me angry recently, how I was handling my anxiety. It was genuinely better than a therapist. No words, no wrong interpretation, no judgment. Just me and art. It was the moment when I allowed myself to think freely about everything I was living. After that, I would have to put my emotions aside, as I always tried to do. Too many feelings couldn't do good, you could be drowned by them, but a total absence of emotion would kill any human being. Emotions are neither good or bad, they are blurred mirrors of what we go through that we need to think about to make our mind clear.

I lost track of time. I was sort of relaxed when my personal phone vibrated in my coat. I didn't remember that my parents invited me from tea so I was surprised to receive a message.

It was a picture. More precisely a picture of the painting I was standing in front of. The message was signed MH. Was he following me ? I glanced at the room around me. No visible trace of Holmes.

"You're spying me," I replied.

Another text arrived almost immediately.

"Just using CCTV. I'm sure you know how it works. MH"

Well, of course I knew. I was working with this system almost every day in the Q branch. His actions just proved that he was powerful enough to do not need the authorisation of the Q's head to get in our system.

"I don't want to scare you. I was just wondering what are your thoughts on this painting. You spent a good amount of time in front of it, you must have things to say about it. MH"

"Ecstasy, violence, sex, love and a hidden bit of death."

"How do you see that ? MH"

"You don't see it ?"

"I just see three naked women dancing. MH"

"Your brain is not the main tool in painting. Try to think with your heart."

"It's not possible for me. MH"

I left the museum, walking slowly, taking the time to enjoy the sunny weather. I traversed the Millenium Bridge that was facing the entrance of the Tate Modern. This day really gave me the impression that spring was here. But I knew that the British weather didn't care that much about the season and that in some days it would be raining.

While walking I thought about my message exchange with Holmes. Was he really unable to see what I was saying about the painting ? I understood that my perception on painting was just mine and everyone had a different one but the themes of this artwork were quite apparent.

I didn't know how Holmes's mind was working but I could see that he was not very good with emotions. I didn't understand why he was conversing with me. What was he expecting me to do ? Why someone from the Cabinet Office was interested in me ? It was not as if I was already dealing enough with the MI6 and the government safety, and now the public and visible part of our government.

The next evening I decided to watch a movie. I've spent my lunch time at work searching information about movies from the thirties. I have decided to try the things Holmes liked and I hoped it would help me to understand him better. My terrible lack of knowledge when it came to cinema was at the same time a good and a bad thing. It enabled me to have a neutral eye on everything but also to have no experience on how to choose a movie. But after some time searching for a movie that Holmes might have watched, without no other indication than a movie from the thirties, I still didn't know what to watch. I wanted to get it right, to see something that Holmes would like.

Back at home, I decided to send a message to Holmes. He would be the best one to tell me about his own taste.

"Do you have any advice for a movie ?"

I gave food to Billy and Caramel while waiting for an answer. Around ten minutes later, a new message arrived.

"The Rule of the Game by Jean Renoir. MH"

I turned my computer on and lied on my sofa. I searched quickly about the movie before downloading it. It's a French movie made in 1939 set in the very beginning of WWII about wealthy bourgeois and servants meeting up in a castle.

While waiting for the movie to finish downloading I made my way again to the kitchen to grab a cereal box. I went back on my sofa and started the movie.

The time flowed by quite easily. The rhythm of the movie was good enough to keep me focus and enjoy it. I could understand Holmes's interest for this movie, it was really stimulating. Even with the WWII context, it was not too related to war and was light to watch.

Once the movie was over I went to bed. Billy curled up and started purring loudly next to me. Caramel rapidly joined us and we fell asleep together.

The next morning, I received an early text from Holmes asking about the movie. I didn't answer immediately, only once I was in the subway.

"It was interesting but I'm not sure to understand everything."

He answered around 10am while I was on a meeting with M and Tanner. I checked it while listening to M. I didn't usually check my phone during meeting so I tried to look at my co-workers at the same time as reading, which wasn't the easier option.

"We could talk about it on Thursday. MH"

I had to read the message several times. Why would we speak together again on Thursday ? I sent him a new text.

"What is happening on Thursday ?"

"We're having lunch together, like last week. But this time, it's your turn to choose the location. MH"

I supposed my stupefaction was visible on my face because Tanner asked me what was wrong. I put my phone back in my pocket and shook my head as if it was nothing. M and Tanner carried on but I was deeply lost in my thoughts. We were going to have lunch again in four days. I was seriously not expecting that this man would keep going on seeing each other. I presumed that someone from the Cabinet Office didn't have that much time free but he seemed to find free moments to send message to me and to have lunch. Did he want to have a weekly lunch with me ? What did he expect from me ? It was the same question since we first met, why was he interested in me ?

I spent the rest of my day at work being incredibly unproductive. For god's sake, why ? Before leaving the lab in the evening, I thought about what happened last week. I had closed the secret files about Holmes. I knew it was not a good idea, he thought I was wise precisely because I didn't read them. But I was sure somewhere in these files there was the answer of all my questions.

Once everyone else had left the laboratory, I typed the same code as the first I met Holmes. A good amount of files popped up. I went through them very quickly. I didn't know what I was exactly searching for but I supposed that something like a psychologic examination or anything related to his behaviour would help me. So I closed everything that weren't explicitly related to that without reading them carefully.

In the end I found a really old document that had been scanned. It said it was also linked with two others documents, my computer proposed me to find and open them but just by seeing the title given to these documents I understood that they were related to his family and not him. I focused on this document. I read that this document has been made when he was fourteen. It stated that Holmes's intellect was remarkable. It also spoke about emotional behaviour, explaining succinctly that he repressed his feelings and applied logical to everything. At the end of the document was written an advice from the psychologist that lead the examination saying that an emotional support such as a friend would be good. It was plain explicated that this support had to come from outside of his family. A very little side note next to it stated his family environment might be unstable.

I closed the document quickly. This document was old but the statement in it seemed to still be true to this day. I remembered that Holmes presented himself in a very cold way. At no moment I had seen him expressing veritable emotions.

I left work and during all the way home I was deeply thinking about what I discovered today. Once arrived in my apartment, I sat down in my sofa. Looking at this document certainly gave me more information but also more questions. I couldn't bare it any longer. I couldn't let all these interrogations disturb my life, my work, for one more day. I needed answers, I needed to understand, to let everything go through whatever the finale outcome was. I grabbed my phone from the pocket of my coat that I was still wearing.

"Why me ?" I wrote.

"Because I choose the location last week. MH"

"No, I mean why do you want to have lunch with me ?"

"Let's talk about it on Thursday. MH"

It was Wednesday evening and I still haven't chosen where I wanted to go for the lunch tomorrow. I couldn't find an idea that wouldn't be annoying, where we could talk without be disturbed. We couldn't decently eat and speak easily in a museum despite my love for paintings and art. I also thought that Holmes invited me in a neutral place that had no connection with each of us. A museum might be too related with me and make Holmes uncomfortable. I started listing all the place that I considered as neutral for me. At the moment when Billy started meowing at me to get food I finally found it. Hyde Park. I served the croquettes for my cats and while watching them eating I sent the location to Holmes.

"Let's meet at the exit of the Lancaster Gate Station for tomorrow."

I spent the morning doing all the work I could so I wouldn't have any pressing matters this afternoon. I didn't know what to expect from this meeting but I was sure that I would need a moment to think about it. Whatever answers might come during this lunch, they would create reaction in my brain and I could not properly work without clearing it up.

At some point the time came for me to leave the lab and I went out to take the underground. I had one change to do but it was a really short journey compare to what I had to do to go back home. When I got out of a station I saw Holmes stepping out of a black car with stained windows. I waved at him while he rested on his umbrella. He didn't have it the two first time we met and I didn't honestly understand the point of having on umbrella on one of the sunniest days of the month. Maybe he was just using it to keep his balance but he didn't appear as someone who needed help in any way. I could see a little smirk on his face once he saw me crossing the road to join him.

"Hello, sorry for being late," I apologised.

"Good Morning. I arrived early. I'm not sure this place is very secured", he pointed out while indicating the park with the end of his umbrella.

"Well, at least we're not confined in a room with indiscreet ears in every corner."

I started to walk to the small Italian café next to the entrance of the park. Holmes followed my steps, looking straight into the direction of the café. I ordered only a cup of tea. My difficulties to accept food were still there and this meeting was more like a walk around than a real lunch so food didn't matter. Holmes asked for a sandwich and then we left the place to walk around.

"So, how was your week ?" Enquired Holmes.

"Fine I suppose. No urgent mission or whatever. And yours ?"

"Busy as usual." He became silent while a jogger got ahead of us. He waited for this man to run far enough and started again. "What did you not understand in the movie ?"

"Why do you like it ? Why did you recommend it to me ?" I asked while turning my head in his direction.

Holmes stopped walking for a second, suddenly hit by his thoughts. He nodded and continued walking next to me.

"It's deal about themes that are still actual like objectivity, rules, human behaviour, etc. You didn't miss that, right ? I gave you this reference because we both know how behaviour can influence our life, our career." He contemplated the path broadening in front of us. He stopped once again and opened his sandwich packaging. He ambled while eating his lunch.

We wandered around either on the pathway or on the grass as Holmes ate his sandwich and I drank my tea. I observed the park around us. It was in the middle of the week so there weren't that much people compared to the weekend but the beginning of spring made some people go out for lunch. We found a bench with no one around and sat there. A little wind blew and messed up my hair for a second.

"So, about your questions. I suppose you have a lot, right ?" Holmes said after finishing eating. I nodded. "I can't answer all of them I'm afraid. But I understand your stupefaction. Why someone would suddenly take interest in you for no apparent reason ? That's what trigger you, isn't it ?"

I could only nod, he has perfectly understood my worries. He carried on.

"Let's start with what seems to be the beginning. I have a brother, Sherlock Holmes, that you might have heard about for his collaborations with Scotland Yard and his deduction competences. We consider ourselves as two persons stuck in a world of goldfishes. Don't take it personally, of course, we understood very young that we were different from the other children. My brother, since several years, works with John Watson, that he now considers as his best friend. We never had best friend or even friends before that moment. Watson has brought with him new friends to Sherlock. Two weeks ago, the three of us were trapped in a sort of experimentation by someone that we could theoretically consider as our sister. During this day, I saw how my brother has been changed by his friends, in good and bad way. I understood that he would never live without Watson. And I figured out that, in some way, I was completely alone." He paused to catch his breath. He scanned my face with a glance. I let the information going to my brain, slowly catching the sense of his words. What he said corroborated with what I read on the other day. "And I don't want to be alone like that. When I came last week to the MI6, I have been asked by the prime minister to inspect how everything was going after the mistake I made with my sister and this other debacle in Serbia. Instead of true answers about the latter, I found you, a rather clever man, that appeared to be lonely. From what I have seen between my brother and John Watson, friendship comes from some sort of solitude. I believed that I could give a chance." He stared in front of him, he seemed lost in his thoughts. He closed his eyes for a second and turned his head in my direction while opening them again. "A chance to have a friend, you see."

I leaned against the back of the bench and looked up at the sky above us. What could I say ? I had friends in college but it was more about being classmate and supporting together with the work we had to do. It was sharing the pressure together to stay sane. We haven't kept in touch since our graduation.

"You're asking me to be your friend ?" I murmured with hesitation. Do people usually ask each other to be friend like that ? But it has been explicitly stated that Holmes wasn't like everyone and, personally, I didn't know what were the actual trends in making friends so his technique may be too direct but it was doing the job. Holmes nodded in response. I bit the interior of my cheeks before answering, "Yes, I suppose we could try."

For once, the smile that appeared on his face seemed completely genuine, even if it was small. His look has become softer. My response had made him happy and relaxed. He got on his feet and started walking away with a meditative gait. I followed him rapidly. We walked some moments like that, until he stopped under a tree and faced me. He pressed his lips together. His eyes were focussed on something I couldn't see.

"Do you know how that works ?" He stared at me, waiting for an answer. He was lost concerning that matter.

"Friendship ?" I scratched the back of my neck. No, I didn't know. I saw how other people can be close to each other but I never understood how, myself, I could create any sort of bond with someone without feeling awkward. "I don't know but I suppose having lunch like that is what people do."

Holmes nodded and continued to walk quicker than before. We arrived at the entrance the park. His black car was still waiting for him, a driver in the front seat. We took the direction of the car. Once in front of it we stopped.

"I was thinking," said Holmes while facing me, "friends are supposed to know each other name. And I don't know your name."

"Olly Boothroyd." I said in a breath after looking around me quickly. I almost never used my name in my current life. I was called Q or not called at all. Only my family and people from college used this name. And as I didn't see my friends from college anymore, it was only my parents I supposed.

"Well, Olly, we're separating here. It was a nice lunch. Send me a message whenever you want, if it's what you think friends do." He offered me his hands and I shook it sharply. Then he got in the car and I waited for it leave before going back to the station and do my return journey to work.

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I have been messy by forgetting to update the first chapter with the disclaimer and everything. Now it's fixed.

Leave review if you want, that would be very encouraging ! Thanks for reading.

I created a playlist with the songs that motivate and inspire me to write, you can find it on my profile. It might be helpful to understand in which directions i want to go in my stories.


	3. Chapter 3

It can be silly how slow I'm updating. I wrote 2000 words in the last two days but to put myself back on track was long. I had difficulties finishing this trimester. I'm not worried about the results but it was hard mentally. I got also extremely anxious about finding an internship. I found two, really short but still good. I willl worry again about it when it will be time. Right now I'm getting crazy because I have a shooting next week and it's my first time working alone, outside of school and with real professionals. I'm not confident at all in what I'm doing but it will do. It has to.

Concerning this chapter, it was a really pleasure to write from Mycroft's point of view. I hope I did justice to him and his personality. I have been reading a good fic, not from Myc's pov but still really enlighting of his way of thinking and being. I hope I managed to share it in here. I didn't expect this end to the chapter to say the truth. But it felt more interesting and left a little bit of suspense, in a way.

Disclaimer : I don't own the Sherlock and Bond's universes.

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Of course I knew Boothroyd's name. I'm the one who found him after he hacked into the Bank of England just to have a look at his mom's account without any restriction. I suggested the MI6 to hire him. His capacities needed to be preserved from any bad influence like Moriarty. He was extremely good in his skills, it could destroy everything we knew if he fell into the wrong hands.

I was actually surprised that he gave me his name so easily. He was visibly unsure about what he was doing but nevertheless he said it without asking question. I thought that he would not trust someone that quickly and give a false name. He was not a man in the action so he has not need to be undercover but he still knew so many confidential information, that giving his name to everyone he meets might not be the best protection.

My driver was carefully going to my next meeting. He was driving faster than usual. I knew that I stayed at this lunch longer than I expected and now I was running late on my very tight schedule. I had walked too slowly, I was deeply absorbed in my thoughts. And I had now to pay the price for being slow by going too quick.

I still didn't know if I made a good decision. A part of me was thinking that it was completely stupid, I was becoming a goldfish like everyone else if I continued in this direction but another part of me, that I have been burying as far as possible in my mind palace for a very long time, was begging for a friend, to finally allow someone to genuinely understand me. Alone was everything I could have until now but it was starting to be weighty to bear. Seeing my brother finding happiness in friendship made me understand that, even if alone was a good protection, it was going to drive me crazy now or later.

We quickly arrived at my next appointment in the Parliament. Once the car stopped, I took a deep breath before getting out of the vehicle. I couldn't wait more, time was already not in my favour. I needed this negotiation to go well and arriving late was the last thing to put me in a good position.

Several hours later, I was still discussing conditions that seemed obvious to me but that the other parts of this negotiation didn't understand, for some reasons. I was exhausted to explain again and again the same thing, always trying to find the good expression to make sure they understand. And they were not doing any efforts to get it. I needed a break, a cup of tea and some biscuits. I only ate a sandwich today when usually I always have a three course lunch. The lack of sugar in my body was driving me insane, and I hated that. Not controlling what was happening was genuinely the thing I couldn't handle.

When we finally decided to stop this meeting for today, night has fallen for two hours. Once at home, I found a cold diner waiting for me in the living room. The house was empty, as usual. Until very recently it never bothered me but now, I felt that I was living in an abandoned place. I knew that people were working here but I never saw anyone. I was alone in a house that could be a 5-star palace. There were enough bedrooms to welcome every guest of the next wedding of the monarchy. And I was standing here, completely alone. I could be killed no one will hear it but the watchman in the security office who was watching the CCTV.

I decided to watch a movie in my cinema. It has been a long day and I needed to relax. And a movie was the best way. I remembered the discussion I had during lunch with Olly. I wanted to watch The Rules of The Game for at least the tenth times. It was one of my favourite movies and talking about it today made me want to watch it again. I took my plate with me to my cinema.

Two hours later I went to bed. This stupid meeting was supposed to continue tomorrow morning, I had to get proper sleep and do not spend the whole night watching movies. I could become unstoppable when it came to movies.

The next day was definitely not worth waking up. Like most of the days. I always felt surrounded by goldfishes. Was I the only one to see how vain they were ? My brother could see it but he decided to accept it. I couldn't. I was protecting myself from them as much as possible but when I could see them from my bubble, I was astonished. I tried to get used to it since the first time I met other children when I was young but, still today, I was distressed by this amount of stupidity that other human beings could create. I considered few people to be clever enough to get my attention. But this lack of empathy could not prevent me to act normally around people. I had to. Or I would be like my brother, hated by most people, because he couldn't fake interest. My position forced me to show interest in people even if what they do was utterly irrelevant.

The meeting started the day before was, as yesterday, long and tiresome. For once, I understood why Sherlock was always searching for distraction. Everything sounded so easy to understand but their little brains couldn't register the discussions. Luckily for them, I was extremely patient. It was not possible for me to do not come to an arrangement. The subject was not the most important or delicate I had to work on but it would make my life easier to come to the agreement I wanted. That's why I needed to take it slowly, to make sure it was going in the direction I wanted.

At lunch time, we took a break and Anthea arrived with some food. She had a true skill when it came to plan and organize things. She always knows what to do, what each guest wanted. I could ask her anything, she will find it in less than one hour.

I was eating when I received a message on my phone. It was coming from Olly. I wasn't expecting him to contact so soon after seeing each other. He was really surprising for someone so young. I supposed that he may, in contrary to me, know of friendship worked so I trusted him about what he was doing to make it works. I didn't know what would come from this arrangement, as I had no idea how genuine relationships were supposed to be constructed. I read the text.

"Tea or coffee ?"

"'I'm the one choosing the next lunch place, don't worry about it. MH" We met 24 hours ago and he was already thinking about the next time ? Maybe I didn't make a wise choice to befriend him. It was quite recurrent recently, this lack of wisdom.

"It's not about that. I think friends are supposed to know each other, I'm just asking about your preferences."

I raised an eyebrow. Was that what friends do ? I had no idea. I could only try and go along what he was proposing. I supposed he knew what he was doing.

"Tea, obviously. MH"

I hit send just at the moment when Anthea placed a cup of tea on the desk in front of me. She left again in the second that followed. I took a little sip of the hot drink. Was Olly expecting me to ask another question in return of his ? Wasn't it too much information at the same time ? Was it fine to discuss each other taste like that ? But, if I didn't ask anything, wouldn't I sound like someone who doesn't care ? I usually didn't care about other people but I decided on my own to involve myself in this friendship.

"And you ? MH"

"Earl Grey, of course."

On the next day, I was the first one to ask questions. With his important interest for painting, I thought asking about his favorite painting may be a safe and easy question. He replied _Le_ _jardin_ _de_ _l'artiste à Giverny_ by Claude Monet. He, then asked me my favorite movie. M, obviously. A German movie from 1931. I knew Monet of course but for me, all his flower paintings were the same. Olly's explanation about painting and emotion made me think again about my point of view on art, but it was still extremely difficult, almost impossible for me, to have feelings while looking at a painting, listening to music or anything. I had restricted the access to my emotions for so long that I couldn't find them again. It was cold dead. I searched on my phone the painting he just named. I stared at the image of it I found on the internet. A mix of colors and brush strokes, that was all I could see. I showed it to my assistant, Anthea. She always had this bored mask on her face but at the sight of the painting, a very light flash appeared in her eyes.

"What do you think about it ?" I said, my eyes still fixed on the screen of my phone, waiting for an impromptu enlightment. She sighed almost imperceptibly.

"Monet is great. Always relaxing. Just enough details." She focused on her phone once again. I looked at the image a last time and locked my phone. I couldn't get my brain on it. Not now. I needed my full attention on my job and on the issues I had to face today, not to be troubled by a painting.

But I couldn't focus, of course. The painting was now imprinted in my head, stored in my mind palace. Every time these meetings became boring during this day, which means more than ninety percent of the time, my mind went back to this painting. I always thought that I could naturally and easily prioritize my thoughts but it seemed that today it was impossible to hierarchise my problems the way that could make my life easier.

The afternoon went on very slowly. Once we got back in our car, I felt a little relieved. I would be allowed to concentrate on this painting issue very soon. It was not a real issue but I needed to understand what was going on with it. When I finally sat in front of my desk at home, I let all the facts about painting in general and Monet more specifically, all the thoughts I reprimanded during the day to come in my head. I took my head in my hands. I had to sort it quickly. How could such a small acquaintance with Boothroyd disturb me so much ? I couldn't let this happen. I had to pull myself together as soon as possible. I was not used to communicate outside of work or social obligation and I put myself in a situation where I was speaking with someone for none of these reasons but just from my free will. It was new, it was extremely unusual and I knew that if I couldn't get along with it I would have to stop it. But until now, I never failed to adapt myself to something, whatever it was.

I understood that the painting was disturbing me for the simple reason that for once in my life I thought about someone that was not linked to me by blood or for work reasons. I didn't really think about colleagues or negotiators for who they were but for what they represented. My assistant, the prime minister, etc, I was not interested in the person but by what they were supposed to be for me. Family was family, they were there, I had no other choice that accept them. But here, I choose to involve myself into a relationship that wasn't not required for work or for family reason. And it was making me think about how far I was supposed to be engaged in it. Were you supposed to think about your friends often ? Did you have to do small talk and discuss your preference with them ? I had absolute no idea how any communication with people could work. At least, with people I really wanted to be with. My relationship with Sherlock was difficult, even if we were slowly getting better. I couldn't look at Eurus without remembering the mistake I made. My parents were obviously nice, they were the incarnation of kindness, but I always felt the weight of the secrets I carried and of my mistakes when I saw them. I could only remember that I have been a child understood and loved by his parents before becoming the carrier of my nation secrets. I decided to have a friend, and thinking about what I should do made me uncomfortable.

I sighed heavily before getting up from my desk. I couldn't lose the control of my mind for such a little thing. The thought of it made this disruption already forgotten. My mind went back to what it was before this day, fully functioning and rational.

The next day was quieter. I threw myself completely into work, not daring to give my brain the time to think about something else. The meetings were boring, as they were most of the time, but I was almost sure that I never involved myself and discussed as much as during this day. I usually listened and spoke only when utterly necessary but not today. It might be a good thing because it allowed me to make sure no mistake or unclear points would be left at the end of each meetings. I wouldn't have to go back and fix every report I would receive. I supposed that I should do that more often but it was exhausting me extremely quickly. I couldn't last long acting like that.

Anthea looked in my direction suspiciously every now and then. She was obviously confused by my behaviour. She was used to see me visibly bored by any question and cold in front of any other human being. She passed a message on a sheet of paper in front of me.

"Are you sure everything is alright ?"

I glanced quickly in her direction, reassuring her with a small smirk. Everything had to be alright, it was not a possibility to lost control for such trivial reason than not feeling fine. My emotional state had to be the last thing to influence my actions. But I supposed that even if I tried to refrain it, the simple fact to push away my feelings to leave space for logic and rationality was already influencing my actions. We managed to finish this meeting half an hour earlier than expected. It left us with a full hour to eat lunch instead of the usual thirty minutes. I dragged my assistant in a small but good restaurant under her confused eyes. As usual, she continued to work on her phone while passively eating. She sometimes left the screen of her phone to look at me with her brows worryingly furrowed. She almost dropped her phone when I started speaking. I supposed that she was used to not hear a word from me during lunch.

"So, tell me about your friends." Seeing that she slightly raised her eyebrows, I continued. "You must have friends, you're not me. So what about them ?" She put her phone on the side of the table, looking frantically across the room for either an answer or a reason for my sudden question. Not finding what she wanted in her mind, her eyes went back on me, visibly fighting to not show any more confusion on her face but unsuccessfully failing.

"Sir, you don't care about it. You know that small talk doesn't suit you. And you also know that I'm fine with not talking."

"Okay, I don't care that much about your friends. Or even about you. But I want to know what normal people talk about with their friends. Or what you do with them." She opened her mouth several times, aborting every sentence even before she started them. She tilted her head on the side and before she started to try speaking again I took a deep breath. "It's important, it's about yesterday painting. Just answer honestly, for once." She shook head before sighing.

"I don't see them often, you know. But we go to see movie, we do shopping, we share lunch or snack. Sometimes we just spend time together, not really doing anything. We exchange message, send funny pictures to each other. We speak about…" She stopped for few seconds, looking on her left, remembering, I supposed, her recent discussion with her friends. "About books, movies, music, etc. We sort of philosophize about every potential subject that we can find, I suppose. We complain a lot and laugh at people sometimes. I don't really know what to answer you, we just speak about everything that goes on our mind." I nodded more for myself than for acknowledging what Anthea was saying. I already made a mental note of what she told me, expecting it to be useful soon.

We left the place quickly after this discussion, another meeting waiting for us. I was expecting to receive a message from Boothroyd as during the last two days but nothing arrived during lunch. I shrugged mentally. Was it that easy to take new habits that I already took for granted the arrival of a text from him every lunch ? No, I hoped not. I just believed in the predictability of other people. And maybe in mine too. Everything we did was following this rotating pattern, once me, once him, and there we go again. I didn't think too much about it, as the meetings of the afternoon were not easy as pie, as usual. Maybe he didn't have time to send a text, who knows. A small part of me, that I spurned instantly, added ; who cares. It didn't matter, at least for now.

By the end of the day, I still haven't received any message from the Quartermaster. Maybe he stepped back in his commitment in this thing called friendship. I didn't believe he was involving himself too much, a text per day was sort of average, or even below average, from what I understood from Anthea's words. But his choice of words sometimes made me think that he was, like me, a little unsure about friendship. Or maybe he understood, god knows how, that personal space was the thing I valued the most. Whatever had crossed his mind was acceptable, as I told myself, it might better to do not involve myself so much. If he was doing the same, that might be easy to achieve.

I was going to bed when it suddenly hit me. It was Sunday. It was Boothroyd's day off. Maybe he was busy with family or friends. Or just slept the whole day, if that what people do. Why would I care ? It was his life, not mine, I had not right to implicate myself so much. But my mind, as usual, needed to visualize every possibility. Unanswered questions leaded to unrestful nights, my brain working on and on. So, I let myself thinking that Boothroyd spent a busy day with his relatives, finally finding some potential peace.

I didn't hear about Boothroyd for the next three days. It was now Wednesday. We were supposed to have lunch again tomorrow, if we continued to follow this new habit. I had to choose a location. I charged Anthea to free time in my schedule to have a proper lunch time and to find an appropriate place. The Quartermaster told me that he was not comfortable in closed place like the restaurant we went in the first time. I requested to my PA to find somewhere with a large dining area, where it was possible to breath. But not too frequented, as he said, unwanted ears were everywhere.

She came back about an hour later with a file containing the different locations she selected. Photos of the interiors, backgrounds of the staff members, menu, frequent customers, etc, were included in the file. Anthea was an extremely good worker, almost perfect. The only thing that I didn't have, and that sounded difficult to obtain, was a list of Boothroyd's food preferences. I would have to do this choice according to my own taste, that I had always considered as good taste.

My eyes wandered on the different papers quickly and I took my decision in the next thirty seconds. I set myself on this French restaurant just next to the Waterloo Station. I haven't eaten French food for a long time and the place looked nice. I called Anthea back, sharing with her my decision so she could set the reservation and schedule the next meetings, depending on the usual length of the service.

Then, I continued to work on the different deals and arrangements that were coming in the next few months. It was only drafts for now but this early preparation was mandatory if I wanted to make sure every possible option had been studied, every improvement of our properties had been made. If was easy, for now, as I was the only to be in possession of these drafts, to find solutions. But once I will have to share them with the others working in the Cabinet, with the Prime minister and the other parts involved, that will only become a mountain of difficulties.

Anthea came back several hours later, choosing well her timing as usual, as I was doing a small break from work. She stayed on the doorstep of my office, to simply signify that the reservation has been made. She left again and I sent a text to Boothroyd.

"Tomorrow, at the Auberge, next to Waterloo. MH"

I was not expecting any answers. However, around 10pm, my phone vibrated.

"Might be late, arriving from Bangkok at 11am."

I sometimes used my free time to secretly take the control of the MI6 or the CIA for some hours and there was one thing, the most important thing about these agencies : the Quartermaster was not supposed to leave his headquarters and go on missions or do legwork if it was not the most urgent and important situation. Critical circumstances meant that I was the first one aware of it and worked along M. Why would the MI6's Quartermaster be sent on field without my consent ? He needed to stay in place as much as possible, as he was the one assuring most of the cyber security of the country. Making him leave England required a lot of paperwork, precautions had to be taken, either for him than for the country, we had to reinforce our surveillance. It was not something easily done, and couldn't be done without my agreement, as I was one of the very few to know every procedure that implied such a thing.

I quickly sent a text to Anthea, asking for all the reports and applications concerning the recent missions of the MI6. Why the hell did Boothroyd left England ? Who allowed such a mistake without telling me ? I went back to my conversation box with Boothroyd.

"Take your time, I expect additional work for tomorrow. MH"

Anthea's answer came later during the night. Her mail contained the different reports and authorizations I asked. She also sent her personal recap of the event, with elements she collected from people and not from the files I had in front of me. Apparently, 002 made a blunder. For the second time in a month. The MI6 needed a little more of discipline seeing the very average results they got and the number of mistakes they made. Several agents were doing an exercise in our base in Thailand. This base, to my great regret, also included a part of our missilery. A stray bullet came to one of the missiles, causing immediate explosion and panic. No causalities, luckily. This base was far away from the population and the agents in function had the sense to run away. As no order was given prior to the explosion of the missile, all the others deactivated themselves immediately. The only person who knew how reactivate these weapons was Boothroyd. They sent him in emergency to Thailand to fix it. The reason I wasn't aware of this complete mess was that the exercise was not scheduled and that the MI6 tried to keep it for themselves. They knew, after the other blunder in Serbia and my own mistake with Sherringford, that any other problem might be extremely dangerous for the well-being of their institution. They wanted to avoid another visit from me I supposed. How stupid of them.

I was not going to anything about it for tonight but once I will have seen Boothroyd, the MI6 could be sure that they would hear about me. I asked Anthea to free my afternoon, a visit to the MI6 was imposing itself and to reschedule the appointments that were supposed to happen during this afternoon.

I went to bed, sighing quite often, already imagining the chaos that was waiting for me tomorrow. The only positive thought I could have for now was that I was one of the first outside of the MI6 to be aware of this story. I can't not imagine how embarrassing it would have been if the Prime Minister discovered it before me. My head could have fallen very easily.

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Please leave a review with what you thought of this chapter. I would also like to know from whose point of view i should write the next chapter. I suppose i should do a second one with Mycroft but tell me what you think. I also want to thank E.J Morgan for the review on the last chapter.

I relate quite a lot to both characters because I genuinely no idea how friendship works, that's quite silly.

If you want to know what's going on in my life, or more exactly in my lack of life, you can follow me on twitter at PrettyEphebia. I speak a little about my struggle to write and various other things.

07/11 update : Sorry for the lack of new chapter. I had a very busy and stressful month (fashion week internships are not fun) and almost no inspiration. I would rather be extremely slow and come back with "good" ideas than write the first thing that comes to my mind and shows you something I'm not happy with.


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